


A Spark Through The Heart

by Effystar, frozenorange



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Daddy Stiles, Date Night, Dating, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt Stiles, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Movie Night, Post-Coital Cuddling, Spark Stiles, Stiles is a dad, Tattooed Stiles, Texting, more tags and characters to be added as the story goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effystar/pseuds/Effystar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenorange/pseuds/frozenorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles changed in the years Derek was away, how much he changed though, Derek had no idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changing paths

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a Twitter RP between BambiStilinski and BambisBooBear (formerly Stilinski_Jr and AlphaHaleTW).
> 
> Rated M for future chapters. Unbeta'ed.

Derek is by nature a predator, a fighter. Derek fights to protect what's his, what matters to him. Fighting comes natural to Derek but sometimes fighting is not enough. The Alpha pack left him powerless, he lost his status of an Alpha, he lost his pack, he lost the will to fight, to react, to extract his claws, bare his fangs and launch himself at the next threat coming at him. Derek had basically lost everything once again.

Sometimes, before it becomes too much to handle, the best thing to do is take a bow, collect the well deserved applause and exit the scene. And after all that happened to him in those dark months, that seemed the only solution.

Derek packs his few belongings in a duffel bag, and with Cora by his side, he jumps into his car and drives, leaving behind and empty loft and a bunch of unprepared teenagers to deal with the worst supernatural mayhem that Beacon Hills has ever seen. That was something selfish to do but as things were in that time, Derek didn't care. The Alpha pack came to Beacon hills to get Scott and yet it was Derek who suffered more losses. Derek doesn't think twice when he turns the key into the ignition and starts the car, ready to leave.

"Derek..." Cora says, turning in her seat so that she's facing her brother, her voice soft, concerned. "Are you sure you don't want to say goodbye?"

Derek huffs at that, his fingers clenching around the steering wheel, "We already had this conversation." And that was the truth, they had discussed this over and over ever since Derek told her he wanted to leave. Scott knew he was leaving and that would have to suffice. It's not like somebody was going to miss him, or at least he thought so.

Derek doesn't look back when he drives past the "Welcome to Beacon Hills" sign, Derek doesn't stop at the first motel they encounter down the road, not even at the next one, he just keeps driving and driving with Cora fast asleep in the passenger seat and a sense of defeat in his stomach. He has no idea where he's going, Cora said they could go to the pack who had welcomed her after the fire. It's somewhere in a rural area of Nebraska, he'll get Cora to take the map later, for now his only purpose is to get as many miles as possible between him and Beacon Hills.

So, one night Derek leaves Beacon Hills and one morning he comes back.

It's been years since that day when he drives past the "Welcome to Beacon Hills" sign again, he doesn't speed up this time, he's not sure this is the right thing to do. The duffel bag is in the truck, but this time Cora is not by his side. She stayed in Nebraska with her old pack, she wasn't ready to come back and to be honest, she probably never will. Derek didn't tell anyone he was coming back, he hoped people had moved on and forgotten about him. The kids were all around twenty years of age and if Derek was lucky, they all had moved out of town to attend college. The years away had changed him, he became a an Alpha again, a better one even if technically he didn't have a pack.

Derek's loft is exactly how he left it, he's going to stay there for a while but now that he came back for good Derek will get his old house renovated and move in there. First things first, Derek drops his duffel on the couch, changes into fresh clothes and goes out to buy some food. It's almost unreal doing such a mundane thing without having to worry about supernatural beings threatening the townspeople. The town was still the same and yet so different. Derek looks around himself as he walks to the small shop where he used to go before leaving. It's around lunchtime when he walks into the shop, there are only a few people inside and their faces are not familiar to him. He takes a basket and wanders around the aisles, trying to decide what he wants for lunch and occasionally glancing at the people around him.

That's when he sees him, and sure, he's wearing shades, his left arm is covered with tattoos and he has a triskele inked on his neck, he's not wearing his usual plaid shirt and he doesn't have a buzzcut, but the smell is the same and it's him. Stiles. The kid had grown over the past years and he had changed, he looked so much like an adult that it was almost scary. A smile creeps upon Derek's lips as Stiles, in the process of taking a box of Fruit Loops from the highest shelf almost trips over himself and flails comically before getting his balance back on check. Stiles changed so much and yet he's still the same clumsy teen Derek left behind. It all happens in a fraction of a second, Derek stares for a moment too long and that's enough for Stiles to turn around in his direction. Their gazes meet and before Derek can turn around and pretend he didn't see him, Stiles is approaching him with a small smile.

"Hi," Stiles says with a small voice, he looks surprised and happy.

"Stiles," Derek greets as he tries and fails to hide a smile.

"It's good to see you, Derek! I didn't know you where back in town."

"I came back this morning, I didn't tell anyone," he shrugs.

"It's been so long, can you believe that?"

"No, not really. You've changed."

Stiles smiles shyly and rubs a hand down the back of his neck, "I guess I did, but so did you."

"I'm not the one covered in tattoos," Derek points out with a grin.

"No, but you're smiling. That's a big change, sourwolf!" Stiles smirks as he raises his voice and cups his hands over his mouth, "Attention people, Derek Hale is smiling!"

Derek knows he should be annoyed, he should be but he can't. He laughs, instead, a genuine, happy laugh. He wasn't expecting the next words to come out of his mouth but he says it nonetheless, and he means it, "I missed you, Stiles."

Stiles beams, "I missed you too."

And after that they just stand there, in the middle of the cereal aisle looking at each other with big smiles and a lot of things to say.

It's Stiles who breaks the silence first, "Where have you been all this time?"

"With another pack, Cora's old one. She is still with them."

"How's Cora?"

"She's fine but she wasn't ready to come back."

Stiles eyes narrow, "And you were?"

Derek nods, more convinced than he has ever been, "I am. And this time I'm here to stay."

"That's great!" Stiles suddenly remembers that he should head home soon and he groans, "I'm late!"

"I'll let you go on with your shopping," Derek takes a step back.

"Why don't you come over for lunch? So we can catch up and you can meet Dylan," Stiles suggests excitedly.

Derek blinks confused, "Meet... who?"

"My son!" Stiles beams a smile.

And just like that, Derek's jaw drops and he stares. Because the guy standing in front of him, the guy who was awkward with girls and who was worried he was going to die a virgin, that guy right there just admitted he had a son.

Sensing Derek's surprise, Stiles lets out a nervous chuckle, "Guess I did change a lot."

"How old is he?" Derek blurts out, trying not to think of all the implications of what Stiles just said.

Stiles laughs nervously, "Why, are you afraid I'm going to say that he's yours?"

"We never had sex," Derek scoffs.

"Maybe we should have," Stiles mumbles then flushes bright red when he realizes that he said it out loud. "He's two."

Derek nods slowly and smiles, letting the information sink in. Stiles' eyes are bright and shine with a new light as he talks about his son and Derek's heart melts because if there's somebody Derek thought would rock the parenting thing is Stiles. "I can't wait to meet him, then!"

"Let me pay for this stuff then we can go," Stiles smiles pointing to his cart.

With a short nod, Derek follows Stiles to the registers, he's still processing what Stiles told him, so he keeps quiet. They walk out of the store in complete silence, walking side by side, until Derek turns to face Stiles, "Where do you live now?"

"My dad's house. We haven't been here for that long, I didn't find a place yet.

Derek hums in understanding as he walks, "Who's the mother?"

"It doesn't matter," Stiles shrugs and shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

Derek decides to not press the issue as he feels the sadness radiating from Stiles and he drops it. Soon they're right in front of the sheriff's house, standing on the porch of the same house where Derek had hidden when he was a fugitive, when Stiles was a sixteen years old with a buzzcutt and weird tees. So much time had passed and yet the house was always the same, with the blue old jeep parked in the driveway.

Stiles fumbles with the keys and there's an hesitant smile on his lips when he turns back, "Ready to meet my son?"


	2. Chicken nuggets and race cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek meets Dylan.

Stiles unlocks the door and calls for his dad, "Dad, I'm home."

The sheriff rushes to the front door while he's pulling on his uniform's jacket on. "Good, I'm already late. Dylan is in the living room playing, I didn't make lunch yet." The sheriff stops in his tracks soon as he sees Derek, "Oh Derek, I didn't know you were back in town."

"I came back this morning, sir."

The sheriff gives Derek a short nod as he walks past them, "I'll be home tonight, don't wait for me for dinner."

"Okay dad," Stiles waves from the porch. The sheriff jumps in the cruiser and he drives off. As soon as the car disappears around the corner Stiles walks inside, carrying the bag of groceries. Derek follows him and the first thing he notices when he walks past the threshold are the toys scattered around the floor.

"Don't stand there, come in!" Stiles calls from the kitchen where he is storing the food in the cupboards, so Derek joins him. "What can I cook for you?" Stiles asks.

"Anything is fine," Derek shrugs with a small smile. "I'm here for the company."

Stiles beams at that, "Well, I'm making chicken nuggets for Dylan, is it okay if I make some for us too?"

Derek nods, "Sure, can I help you with anything?"

Stiles shakes his head, "I got this, you can sit down and do the talking."

"I don't have much to say."

"Well, you can start by telling me what you've been up to I mean, I've been gone three years," Stiles suggests as he takes the nuggets from the freezer and puts them in the oven. Before Derek can say much, though, a soft noise is heard from the living room and Stiles whispers, "I'll go get Dylan," before he disappears.

Derek stares nervously at the oven, trying not to freak out too much at the thought that he is about to meet Stiles' son. this is unbelievably weird for Derek, the thought of Stiles with a baby, his own baby, and yet this weird thing Derek can't quite wrap his mind around is about to become real, because as soon as Stiles walks through that door the past years in Stiles' life will become real for Derek. Stiles murmurs something that Derek can't hear quite well, too muffled even for his werewolf senses, but what he hears next makes him freeze on the spot. It's a childish giggle and as he hears the footsteps getting closer and louder Derek knows that the inevitable is about to happen, that soon enough Stiles of all people will walk into the kitchen carrying his son, the son he had with some woman Derek has never met and doesn't want to meet. Because to Derek this, the child, the toys on the carpet, the small stain of red marker on Stiles' hand and the big smile on his lips all of those things mean that Stiles had moved on and that Derek probably never will. His train of thoughts gets interrupted by Stiles entering the kitchen with his two years old... _human, thank god,_ Derek thinks as he sniffs the air, son on his hip. And Stiles is smiling, and in so many years Derek had never seen him that happy so Derek smiles too because as cheesy as it might sound, if Stiles is happy then Derek is too.

The child peeks curiously at Derek with two big hazel eyes and Derek smiles warmly at the kid, waving his hand.

"Come on," Stiles nudges his son gently. "Say hi to daddy's friend."

A small, shy smile creeps upon Dylan's lips and he smiles sweetly at Derek, "Hi."

"Hi Dylan," Derek replies and Stiles beams, his eyes shining like stars as he holds his son.

"I made you chicken nuggets!" Stiles announces happily.

The child's eyes widen with happiness as the mention of his favorite food and he wraps his tiny arms around his father's neck and hugs him, "Thanks, daddy."

Stiles pats his son's back gently and puts him in his high chair just in front of Derek, but the kid is too busy playing with his stuffed wolf to notice.

"That's a nice wolf you got there," Derek says to break the ice.

Dylan smiles sweetly and pets the wolf's head, "He protects me."

Derek smiles at the child but turns and inquiring gaze to Stiles, wondering why such a lovely child would need protection and from what. All he gets in return is a small shrug as Stiles takes the nuggets from the oven and prepares three plates. He hands the first one to Dylan and he pours some juice into his sippy cup as well.

Dylan smiles as he takes the his small fork and stabs the first nugget, "Thank you, daddy." Dylan says with his baby boy voice and Derek's heart melts.

"You're welcome, baby," Stiles says as he ruffles his son's hair in a playful gesture, only to earn a scowl from the child. Then Stiles takes the other two plates and places one in front of Derek before he sits down next to his son with his own plate of nuggets and takes Dylan's fork from his hands to help him eat the nuggets.

Stiles notices Derek eyeing the wolf on the table and he quickly gives an explanation, trying to dismiss the conversation, "I got that in one of those shops at the gas station on our way here. it doesn't mean anything, it's just a toy."

Derek nods and goes back to his food, the wolf still looking at him.

Dylan babbles happily between one bite and the other and Stiles is entirely focused on the task at hand so Derek relaxes for a moment enjoying the domestic scene unfolding in front of him. Eventually Dylan eats all his food so Stiles gives him his toy wolf to keep him busy while Stiles eats his now cold nuggets. No more questions are asked during lunch, it's clear that neither one of them wants to talk about what happened in those past years. they parted, they lived two completely different lives and yet, few years and a son later, they're sitting at the same table eating chicken nuggets as if nothing happened.

Soon, the food on Stiles dish is gone and, for Dylan, that means it's time to play. He starts bouncing happily in his high chair and holds his arms out for Stiles to pick him up.

"Give me a moment to clean up here then we can go play," Stiles say.

Dylan's eyes drop to the floor and his lips turn into a small pout as he whispers, "Okay daddy."

And that's the moment when Derek realizes that he'll be a terrible father, because he gives up way too easily at pouty and sad children, "Go play with him, Stiles, I got this."

Stiles smiles, but he shakes his head, "Derek, I can't..."

"Yes, you can," Derek insists as he gets up and start gathering the dishes and silverware to load the dishwasher.

Dylan beams and thanks Derek with a smile before holding his arms up again. Stiles picks his son up from his high chair and lifts him in his arms with a fond eyeroll at the child insistence, "What do you want to play?"

"Legos!" Dylan says without hesitations as his father carries him in the living room.

Derek, who is still in the kitchen doing the chores, has to suppress a chuckles as he overhears Stiles' groan, "Only if you promise to put them all back in the box when you're done. I really don't want to step on one of your Lego again."

Derek goes back to his task and listens to the giggles and laughter that come from the living room. When he's done and the kitchen is clean he walks to the living room and stops on the threshold, leaning against the wall, his heart warming at the sight. Dylan is sitting on the carpet building what looks like a car made of Legos while Stiles, who is lying next to him, his helping him find the right pieces. Dylan frowns when he realizes that he can't make the car as he wants and Stiles, to distract him and trying to prevent the incoming meltdown, tickles his sides playfully to make him laugh. The kid shrieks and puts down the car as he tries to get away from his father's grasp. Stiles catches Dylan before he can hurt himself with the Legos scattered around the floor and lifts him in the air above him, lifting his shirt and blowing a raspberry on his belly. Dylan giggles and Stiles laughs as he tickles his son, the child flails his arms around to make his father stop with the tickling and Stiles throws his head back to avoid getting accidentally smacked in the face and by doing so he sees Derek. Derek freezes on the spot as he's caught witnessing such an intimate and private moment between Stiles and his son, but before he can mutter an apology Stiles' lips turn into a smile and he calls, "Don't stand there! Come join us!"

Derek chuckles as he gets down on the floor as well and sits next to Stiles. Immediately Dylan climbs off his father and crawls over to Derek, holding up his car, "Can you help me?"

He carefully takes the toy and makes a scene of inspecting it, not sure what Dylan wants him to do.

"It's your lucky day today, because Derek is awesome at building Lego cars," Stiles says.

Both Derek and Dylan look up at that. "Am I?" Derek whispers in the same instant when Dylan turns to Derek and says, definitely not using his inside voice, "Are you?"

Derek looks up at Stiles worried and unsure on what to do but Stiles nods encouragingly so Derek decides to play along. "Yep, I can help you," Derek assures, and if he doesn't sound completely convinced, Dylan doesn't point that out. He takes the car and instructs Dylan and Stiles to find the pieces that he needs and in less than five minutes they have a decent replica of Stiles' jeep. "Here you go!" Derek exclaims as he hands Dylan his toy.

Dylan beams happily and wraps his tiny arms around Derek's neck, gently kissing his stubbly cheek, "Thank you, Derek." He immediately starts pushing the car around the carpet making car noises.

Now it's Stiles' turn to smile because he had never pictured Derek Hale with a child before and this? This is what he wish he had, somebody to raise his child with who cared about him and Dylan and who loved kids and not... no. Stiles shakes his head and wills the thoughts away, he refuses to think of her now, when he's finally smiling and happy and his heart swells because Derek Hale, muscles, stubble and all is playing with his son and smiling and fuck it, this is what Stiles wants. He doesn't say it out loud but he shifts a little closer to Derek and bumps his shoulder playfully. "You're great with kids."

"I grew up in a big family," Derek shrugs.

"Still, you're great."

"Thanks,"Derek smiles slightly as he turns to Dylan again.

Stiles heartbeat quickens as he asks the next questions, "Have you ever thought about it?"

"About what?"

"Having pups."

Derek snorts and glances back at Stiles, "Not really. But maybe one day, with the right person... who knows."

"I bet you'd love them even if they were human and not wolves," Stiles whispers turning his head to Dylan again.

"Sorry, what?" Derek asks as his head snaps back to Stiles. He heard perfectly what Stiles said but he didn't understand the meaning of those words spat with so much anger. Anger at whom? The mother, Derek assumes.

Stiles just waves dismissively and as if on cue, Dylan yawns loudly. .

"Looks like it's nap time for some of us," Stiles says as he stands up and picks Dylan up in his arms.

The kid just nods and covers his mouth with his hand as he yawns again.

Stiles chuckles and takes the wolf toy before heading for the stairs. "I'll be back in a minute," Stiles says before he climbs the stairs, whispering to his son. He comes back a couple of minutes later, "He fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow."

"That's good."

"Yeah," it's all Stiles says before the awkward and uncomfortable silence settles. Derek is still sitting on the floor and Stiles slowly sits on the couch, patting the spot next to him. "Come here. I'll tell you what happened."


	3. Unspoken words and changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds out the meaning behind Stiles' tattoos.

Derek gets up from the floor and joins Stiles on the sofa, smiling softly, reassuringly, almost.

"I assume you're wondering where the heck Dylan came from," Stiles says rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, and its clear to Derek that he doesn't want to talk about it.

"As long as you promise you didn't kidnap him, we’re okay,” Derek offers with a smile.

Stiles, though, shakes his head and pulls his knees to his chest, "I owe you and explanation."

"You don't owe me me anything."

"Derek, please," Stiles begs in a pleading tone that makes it rather clear that he wants to talk to somebody about what happened during those three years, So Derek gets comfortable on the couch and does the only thing he can do, listen.

"After you left," Stiles starts, eyes staring off into space. "After you left, things changed here and not in a good way. Scott had his pack to deal with and I felt," a sigh and then, "Useless."

Derek nods but doesn't say anything letting Stiles go on with his story.

"And I couldn't take it, the darkness was eating me inside and...." another sigh as Stiles rubs his eyes. "I was too weak, I was a coward, I left."

"Where did you go?" Derek finally asks.

"New York."

"Why?"

Stiles shrugs, biting on his fingernail, "Because I needed to go as many miles as possible away from here."

Derek nods again, that's the same thing Laura did so many years ago, she put a whole country between the memories of what happened to them.

"I met a girl," Stile says as his heartbeat flutters, it's a weird reaction and Derek doesn't know why.

“Human?"

Stiles eyes turn to Derek and he shakes his head.

"Werewolf?"

Stiles' only answer is a nod, "A whole pack of them, they... they accepted me as part of their pack."

Derek inhales sharply at that, because now all the pieces fit together. "Dylan's human," Derek whispers, almost a revelation to him.

Stiles picks at the hem of his shirt as he continues, "That's why they abandoned us," he pauses taking a breath."Tara hated him from the second he was born, she said he looked too weak to be a werewolf so we waited. She waited," Stiles corrects himself and sighs again.

“Two years. The first shift usually happens when the cub is eight or nine months old," Derek says, memories of what his mother told him when Cora was born.

"It might happen later though, so she waited... and one morning I woke up on the couch with Dylan in my arms and nothing else," Stiles looks away to hide the tears in his eyes. "I'm lucky she didn't kill us."

"A mother never kills her cubs, human or not human," Derek sighed.

Stiles shakes his head and snorts, "You don't know Tara.”

Derek frowns, "Was she violent?"

"She's a crazy bitch!" Stiles blurts out as he curls up on himself even more. "And her pack were even worse."

Derek doesn't ask why Stiles ended up with her, because Derek sees himself in him, when he fell for a psychopath who burned his family alive. Derek doesn't even ask if he loved her because he's not sure he could handle an affirmative answer. Sitting next to him knowing, being able to sense that he lost his mate to this... this horrible woman... it was killing him already.

"I thought I loved her," Stiles admits and Derek wonders if Stiles acquired some power while he was with them because Stiles just basically read his min. The truth is, Stiles actually did but Derek doesn't know yet.

"I loved her, I loved the blonde girl with deep blue eyes and a wide smile that I first met, but then after I got her pregnant she changed. She blamed me," Stiles admits. "She never forgave me for getting her pregnant with a human child, that’s... that’s when she changed, when she got pregnant. I didn't love her anymore I was just very afraid."

Derek shifts closer and rests his hand on Stiles' knee, "At least it's over now and hey, you have Dylan."

"Thats the only thing I'll never regret."

Derek nods but he remains silent, not knowing what to say because nothing he says will make this better.

"I had no idea where to go after she left," Stiles admits. "So I simply packed up the few things that were left and drove all the way here."

"I’m sorry," Derek says quietly as his eyes searches Stiles’ hazel orbs for something, anything, that will assure him that Stiles is okay.

"It’s not your fault," Stiles replies as he wraps his arms tighter around his knees, the fingers of his right hand stroking along the tattoos on his left arm. Derek watches the movement, mesmerized. "I’m here now, I’m not leaving again. I’m not going back to New York. Leaving was a mistake in the first place."

Derek nods, he knows the feeling. "I’m here to stay, too," he says and he has no idea why. As if him being around will make Stiles’ experience less miserable.

Stiles looks up at Derek and smiles, not saying anything else. Silence fills the room once again but this time it’s not awkward, it’s fitting, it’s somehow comforting. Stiles’ fingers keep drumming on his arm as he turns his head to Derek. "So, do you like my tattoos?"

Derek blinks, taken aback by the question at first but then the nods, "I didn’t think you were into tattoos."

Stiles just shrugs and points with his chin to the tattoos on Derek’s arm, "Those are new as well."

Derek rolls the sleeve of his henley up to expose the tattoos on his skin, "Yeah."

"What’s their meaning?" Stiles asks curiously, inching closer to lightly brush his fingers over the inked skin.

"Nothing, they just looked pretty," Derek lies.

A derisive snort is all the warning he gets before Stiles playfully smacks his shoulder, "I don’t believe you."

"What about yours?" Derek asks with a smile as he moves closer to Stiles as well. "They look…" Derek freezes on the spot. He knows those tattoos, he remembers seeing the exact same pattern Stiles has on his left arm. Sure, it’s masked as a tattoo sleeve and it’s slightly different from the one he remembers but the general outline of it looks somehow familiar.

"Familiar?" Stiles asks, and at this point Derek is sure Stiles can read his mind.

"Yes, I saw them somewhere before, but I’m not sure where."

"On a sketchbook when you got yours done?" Stiles offers with a small laugh. That’s enough to trigger his memories, images of Laura flashes into his mind.

He was sixteen when he got his triskele tattoo done, he remembers lying face down in the tattoo parlor as Laura flips through some books, chuckling, "Are you sure you want that one, Derek? Why not something like this?" She says and shows him a simple tattoo of a butterfly.

"Fuck you, Laura," Derek says through gritted teeth as the needle pierces his skin repeatedly..

"We could get matching ones, Der. I’ll get the butterfly on my foot and you can get it on your neck," she winks at him and closes the book, picking up another one. The tattoo artist where Laura took him, in New York, is a werewolf as and he knows the exact procedure to make a tattoo permanent even with werewolf healing powers. Derek knew it involved fire and a lot of pain but he was determined to get this tattoo, the symbol of the Hales.

"Oh, this is cute. A lot of work and so much pain, but this is fabulous," Laura says as she holds up a drawing, it’s the design of a tattoo sleeve and, holy fuck, that’s exactly what Stiles has on his arm. Sure, he changed it a little, he added some small symbols but that was the design. the design Laura found that day among hundreds.

He remembers the tattoo artist stopping for a second to look up at what Laura was holding in her hands before his eyes focus on Derek’s back again and he resumes his work, "That’s an interesting one you have there."

"It’s… elaborated. A really intriguing design," Laura observes as her eyes roam over the picture in her hands.

"That’s a magical tattoo," the guys says nonchalantly and Derek shudders as the needle hits his bone, at the same time when Laura gasps.

"Magic?"

The man nods, his hand skillfully moving to trace the last part of Derek’s tattoo, "Yes, wizard and witches used to draw that on their skin to enhance their magical powers."

Laura nods slowly as she puts down the picture again, she looks almost scared now, "Does it work?"

The man simply shrugs as he finishes Derek’s tattoo and dabs at his skin, removing the excess of ink, "I don’t really know."

"Witches," Derek mumbles as he takes one deep breath."I didn’t know there were witches around."

"Witches, sparks, emissaries, they don’t make a distinction anymore, they all have magical powers," the guy says as he takes an object from the metallic table behind Derek’s back. Laura says something Derek can’t quite remember as she moves her gaze away from Derek, and the next thing he knows he’s passing out from the pain of his flesh being burned down by a blowtorch.

"That’s magic tattoo," Derek blurts out and Stiles blushes all shades of red.

"Busted."

"So, you're a wizard?" Derek asks, genuinely surprised.

Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, "Not really, no. I'm a, uh..." he bites his lower lip before continuing, eyes darting down to the floor. "I'm a spark."

"And what does it mean?" Derek asks, brows knitted together in confusion.

"Well, I'm basically an emissary... With magical powers," Stiles explains quietly, not looking at Derek.

Derek's confused expression morphs into one of amazement, "Oh. So you weren't human either after all."

Stiles snorts to cover a small laugh and nods, "You could say that, yes. I just never knew I was."

"Did they show you?"

"They did. They taught me how to control my powers and how to use them," he nods his head in the direction of the tattoos and finally looks up at Derek. "They help me control the spark."

Derek nods slowly, processing the information that Stiles after all, was a supernatural being as well. "What's this spark?"

As an answer Stiles holds up a hand in front of Derek and tiny sparks of electricity jumps from his fingers, making a small crackling noise as they dance around Stiles' hand.

"Wow," Derek manages to breathe out in his amazement. "That's... Unusual."

Stiles smiles slightly as he lowers his hand, "Yeah, that's what I said too the first time. I can launch bolts of electricity, enough to shock a human being. It's mostly for protection."

"Well, it gave you an advantage on the pack, wolves hate electricity," Derek says as he moves to take Stiles hand, stopping before he can grasp his wrist.

"Not really," Stiles sighs and doesn't add more. "You can touch me, I won't shock you," Stiles assures, shrugging.

Derek carefully curls his fingers around Stiles' wrists and lifts up his hand, inspecting the palm of his hand, "You're not hurt."

"I'm not," Stiles says, curling and uncurling his fingers. "Electricity can't hurt me."

Derek nods, his fingers still around Stiles' wrist, the grip gentle, "Does this make you immune to the bite?"

"No, absolutely not. Why?"

"Oh, I'm just surprised they didn't try to turn you. I mean, a wolf who can't be hurt by electricity? Who can cast magic spell? Stiles, you'd be the most powerful wolf."

Stiles smiles but shrugs, "I like being human... Or whatever I am."

"You're special," Derek offers with a smile. "But again, I've always known that."

Stiles' heartbeat picks up after Derek's quite statement, the hand that's not prisoner of Derek's warm grasps curls into the couch cushion as Stiles lets a sigh escape from his lips and looks up, his eyes are tired, but he's smiling and he looks relieved as he admits, "I missed you, Derek."

And Derek just smiles, because he had missed Stiles too, hell, he had missed only Stiles, and he had wanted so many times to send him a text or call him to make sure he was okay and to hear his voice, because he had missed Stiles, he had even missed the snarky remarks and all that sarcasm. It's a soft smile the one that forms on Derek's features, a small quirk of his lips, his gaze soft as he nods his head, "I missed you too."


	4. Stilinski's way to speed dating

Stiles' heart skips a beat as Derek admits that he had missed him, too. And damn, Stiles curses himself because after years of running with wolves you'd think he had learnt to keep his breath and heartbeat in check, but no, the blood-pumping traitor in his ribcage had decided to turn against him and make his heartbeat flutter at Derek's words. So if Derek in many years didn't notice that Stiles reeked of arousal when he was around him, sure as hell he heard that now.

Derek, to Stiles' amusement, chuckles and shakes his head, not mentioning what he heard.

It takes less than a second for Stiles to think, to hell with this, his hand grabs a fistful of Derek's henley and before he can realize what he's about to do, he smashes his lips against Derek's in a kiss that's both desperate and demanding.

The werewolf, taken aback by the gesture, doesn't respond immediately. It's awkward at first, Derek's eyes widen in confusion before his eyelids flutter close and just when Stiles comes to his senses and realizes that Derek is not, in fact, kissing back, Derek grabs the back of Stiles' neck and keeps him there, pressed against him as he moves his lips against Stiles' savoring his scent and his taste, and if a few almost invisible sparks jump from Stiles to Derek, neither of them really notices. It's Derek who, to Stiles' surprise, deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue past Stiles' parted lips. Stiles lets out a whimper at the assault and quickly responds, clinging to Derek's neck as their tongues dance together in a heated kiss that has been denied for too long.

Derek pulls back first to take a deep breath and Stiles leans forward, chasing Derek taste with his lips. Stiles' eyes flutter open, his cheeks are tinted pink and his lips are swollen from kissing. Stiles like that is the most beautiful thing Derek had ever seen in his entire life.

“I missed you,” Stiles admits again, a whispered confession that he knows Derek can hear. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“Believe me, I do,” Derek admits, a shy smile on his lips. Derek is not a man of many words, but Stiles knows what he’s implying, he means that he had missed Stiles just as much.

Stiles launches himself forward and wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, his face pressed against Derek’s cheek. “We’re idiots,” he mumbles as his heart beats so fast he’s afraid his ribcage might explode.

Derek chuckles and wraps his arms around Stiles as well, one hand on the small of his back as the other cups his cheek softly. “How long?”

Stiles shakes his head, pressing his body closer to Derek’s. “Too long,” he admits.

Derek nods and kisses the top of Stiles’ head, a tender gesture that Stiles didn’t see coming and that makes his heartbeat skyrocket. At this point Stiles knows he should have a serious talk with his heart about being more subtle when they are around a certain Sourwolf, but Stiles doesn’t really care at the moment. He just tightens his grip on Derek’s neck and waits for him to say something. He doesn’t have to wait long. “Better late than never,” Derek sighs and rests his chin on top of Stiles’ head.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbles as he turns his head slightly, resting it on Derek’s shoulder as his soft lips press a gentle kiss against Derek’s stubbly jaw line.

“It’s okay,” Derek assures, looking down at the boy – young man, he corrects himself because Stiles is a grown up now, not the teenager Derek left behind – in his arms. “You were too young, I couldn’t say anything.”

“What you wouldn’t say?” Stiles asks tilting his head, his warm, hazel eyes meeting Derek’s icy hues.

“How I felt about you.”

Stiles inhales sharply at that and sits up. “Wait, hold on. You had feelings for me?”

“I kissed you, Stiles. Of course I do.”

Stiles’ eyes widen and he waves his hands around, flailing a bit as he tries to get his point across, “No, I mean, before you left. You had feeling for me before I left. You liked the klutz with a buzz cut?”

Derek takes a deep breath and forces himself to stay calm as he admits the truth, or at least part of it. He can’t tell Stiles what he had known since the first day he met the teenager in his property. Not now, at least. That’s a speech he can spare for another time, if he and Stiles will ever have that conversation depends only on how well Derek plays his cards and doesn’t fuck up.  “Yes, Stiles. I’ve always liked you,” he raises his brows and tilts his head to the side, reconsidering what he just said. “Well, not at first. I found you rather annoying at the beginning, but that didn’t last long.”

Stiles blushes bright red, “Well, to my defense, you weren’t nice and lovable either. But you were hot.”

“Oh, so I’m not hot anymore?” Derek says mockingly, pretending to be hurt by Stiles’ words.

Stiles laughs at that, and shoves Derek’s shoulder playfully, “You still are, silly. You know what I meant.”

Derek smiles and bumps his knee against Stiles’. “You’re such a dork,” he shakes his head fondly as he says so, there’s no venom in his words, it’s not an insult neither an offense, it’s just a consideration and if Stiles didn’t know better he’d say it was almost an endearment.

“So, I found you attractive since day one, you liked me and we never acted on it. We never realized it?” Stiles shakes his head with a snort, “And I was supposed to be the smart one.”

“Even if one of us said something, we couldn’t have done anything about it. You were underage and the sheriff’s kid. He would have shot me, Stiles.”

Stiles’ expression changes into a neutral one, “I never considered that.”

“Well, I did.” Derek says, his gaze morphing into a hard, unforgiving one. That look alone is enough to send chills down Stiles’ spine. He has known Derek long enough to know what’s going through his mind, Derek is thinking about Kate, how that older woman took advantage of him, how she manipulated and used him to get to his family, to destroy everything Derek had. Stiles though, knows better than addressing the issue so he just places a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’m twenty now,” Stiles says with a shy smile.

Derek laughs quietly at that, his expression quickly softened by Stiles’ remark, “Yes, yes you are.”

“Want to do something about that?” Stiles smirks and bites his lower lip, trying to look flirty.

Derek nods and leans in, pressing his lips against Stiles’ soft ones, his arms wrapping around Stiles’ slim waist.

Stiles is quick to reciprocate the kiss, hands gripping Derek’s shoulder tightly as he takes Derek’s bottom lips between his teeth and bites lightly, making the werewolf moan in pleasure. Keeping his lips against Derek’s he moves to straddle his waist, his legs on either side of Derek’s hips. Derek grabs Stiles’ waist and pulls the younger man with him as he lies back on the couch, letting Stiles climb on top of him and, holy shit this is not happening, Stiles thinks as Derek pulls back from the kiss to take a deep breath and tilts his head back, exposing his neck to Stiles. Stiles knows the deep significance of that gesture, especially for an alpha, an alpha that lost everything and that didn’t trust anyone. Stiles’ hand travels to the side of Derek’s face, his soft palm is met with the rough scruff as he strokes Derek’s cheek, smiling. “Thank you.”

Derek looks at Stiles, and when he does, his eyes are red. A bright, ruby red that Stiles had missed seeing on the werewolf features. “They look good on you,” Stiles chuckles, and before Derek can say much more, Stiles’ lips are pressing a trail of soft kisses from under his jaw to his collarbone. Derek’s hand move to grip at Stiles’ hair as he arches his neck, exposing more of his  unmarked skin to Stiles’ eager lips. Stiles doesn’t mark him, he considers it, he wants it, but he doesn’t dare to leave a hickey on Derek’s neck, despite the mark would heal within seconds. Stiles simply kisses and nips at the skin, enjoying the soft moans eliciting from Derek’s lips.

Stiles doesn’t waste more time, he grabs the hem of Derek’s shirt and start tugging at it. “Off,” he breathes as he desperately tugs the shirt upwards, trying to expose Derek’s chest. Derek, who is not shaking like Stiles is, grabs Stiles’ wrists to steady them, kisses his lips softly and easily lifts his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind the couch. Stiles’ eyes widen at the sight of Derek’s bare torso, sure he had seen the werewolf without his shirt on a few times before but never like this, never for him to touch, kiss and lick all he wants. And he should really stop thinking of Derek as his, because Stiles has no idea what this is, why they’re getting naked on his father’s couch and what will happen after, when the heat of the moment wears off and Derek will come to his sense and realize that this was just a mistake.

Derek, who can sense Stiles’ uneasiness, cups his cheeks and makes him look up, “What’s wrong?”

“Do you want this?” Stiles blurts out, swallowing.

Derek nods, his fingers lightly moving to Stiles’ neck. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Stiles says without hesitations, and Derek can tell that he means it, that he really wants this whatever this is. So he pulls Stiles closer and kisses him passionately, Stiles’ lips immediately parting at Derek’s insistent tongue, Derek dominates the kiss this time, moving his tongue inside Stiles’ mouth, chasing his delicious taste as Stiles moans and his tongue battles with Derek for dominance, his hips bucking against Derek’s revealing the hard on he had been hiding in his jeans.

Derek pulls back and smirks knowingly, the urge to rip Stiles’ shirt his almost too much but Derek suffocates his primal instincts and lifts Stiles’ shirt over his head, shoving it to the side. Stiles’ chest, to Derek’s surprise, is a work of art, and not just because he’s covered in tattoos. His muscles are defined, not as well as Derek’s, but he’s toned and even if he is as lanky as he has always been, the layer of muscles makes him look less thin. He has ink on the upper side of his chest, more magical tattoos that are the continuation of the art on his arm, the black ink is a great contrast with his pale skin and Derek can’t help but desire to mark it all.

A light blush spreads from Stiles’ cheeks to his neck and chest as he starts to feel self conscious under the scrutiny and Derek, before Stiles can freak out, takes a hold of Stiles’ legs and pulls him down flat on the couch, climbing on top of him like a predator with his pray. “Beautiful,” Derek whispers as his lips close around one perky nipple and Stiles has to bite the back of his hand before his surprised scream wakes his son who is still sleeping upstairs.

Everything goes too quick from then. One of Stiles’ hand curls in Derek’s hair and holds him in place as the werewolf tortures his nipples, licking and kissing one as he rubs a rough thumb over the other, and if Stiles will have scruff burns on his chest after that, neither of them care. Stiles’ low moans of pleasure turn into a yell as Derek’s hand finds its way to the front of Stiles’ jeans and he rubs his erection. Derek is quickly to muffle the scream with a heated kiss as his hips grind against Stiles’ thigh, desperate for release. Stiles bucks up into Derek’s touch, making desperate noises and whines into the kiss as he feels his orgasm getting closer. It takes just a few strokes for Stiles to release his seed in his underwear and Derek comes right after, when the smell of sweat, sex and come hit him like a brick. He bites down on Stiles’ neck as he cums, right over he triskele tattoo that Derek isn’t sure why is there.

They’re quiet afterwards, a mess of limbs and sweat on the living room couch. Derek is on top of Stiles’, too comfortable to move. Stiles is lying under him, head thrown back and wide eyes fixed on the ceiling as he takes deep breaths and tries to take in the fact that the warm body on top of him is Derek Hale and that he and Derek just did… Stiles isn’t sure how to describe what they did but he hopes this will happen again. He looks down and runs his fingers through the mop of black hair on his stomach. Derek hums happily as Stiles’ fingers card through his sweaty locks and in his post orgasmic bliss, Derek presses a tiny kiss on the skin of Stiles’ hip in what might be the most intimate moment they ever shared.

Stiles sucks in a breath as the warm lips make contact with his skin, Stiles’ feels a knot forming his stomach at that, he tries to convince himself that it’s nothing, that it’s just a kiss with no meaning. Truth is, it felt intimate, it felt private. It felt out of place after that animalistic make out session they just had and at the same time it felt right. Stiles doesn’t question it, he keeps carding his fingers through Derek’s hair in an unconscious attempt to keep him there for longer, because God knows, if Derek gets up and walks out of the front door after this, Stiles might lose his mind.

Derek looks up as if he had sensed the distress once again and he gifts Stiles with a small, happy smile and nuzzles into Stiles’ touch and waits for Stiles to smile back at him.

And Stiles does, because he knows that this time Derek will stay.


	5. Hale's way to speed dating

“I should go,” Derek starts but he stops as he hears Stiles’ heartbeat picking up furiously and sees Stiles eyes widening.

“Stay,” Stiles blurts out, his hand gripping Derek’s shoulder.

For a fraction of a second Derek has no idea why Stiles is so freaked out, until he realizes and smiles. “Stiles, I’m not leaving. I was offering to go take a washcloth to clean us up.”

“Oh…” Stiles says, flushing bright red as he feels like an idiot. “Sorry, I thought…” Now it’s Derek’s time to silence him with a kiss, taking away his fears and insecurities with a small touch of his lips.

“I know what you thought, I should have phrased it better.”

Stiles smiles shyly and loosens his grip on Derek’s shoulder. “We can go upstairs, clean up and change into clean clothes.”

Derek nods and gets up, he holds a hand out that Stiles takes, getting up on his feet with a yawn.

“Tired?” Derek asks with a chuckle as he laces his fingers with Stiles’ and squeezes, feeling Stiles’ heartbeat picking up slightly.

“In a good way, yes,” He says as his eyes fall on their entwined fingers, biting his lower lip as he tries to process the fact that Derek is being sweet and caring with him, that somehow this feels much more intense than just a quick fuck on the couch. Derek notices and lets go of his grip, but Stiles is quicker and squeezes his hand, not saying anything about it. “Upstairs,” is the only thing he says as he walks up the steps, Derek following suit.

They’re quiet after that, they both change into clean boxers and sweats, Derek goes through the whole drawer before he can find a pair that finally fits, and then after they’re cleaned up and dry Stiles excuses himself and goes to check on his son, to make sure he’s still sleeping peacefully. When he comes back to the bedroom, Derek is still shirtless and sitting on Stiles’ bed.

"He's sleeping," Stiles says with a smile, not really knowing what else to say and worried he might make the situation awkward by saying something wrong.

"He's a nice kid," Derek says, smiling softly, one hand rubbing sleep away from his eyes. "Just like his father."

Stiles sits down next to Derek, a sad smile on his lips. "Thankfully he didn't take much from Tara."

Derek nods, eyes gazing at an undefined point in front of him and that's the end of the conversation. Derek sits still, hands in his lap as he waits for Stiles to say something, to kick him out, even. Stiles instead is sitting next to him on the bed, fidgeting nervously as he waits for Derek to leave, because that's what he was doing to do eventually, right? Leave. Because that’s what everybody else in Stiles’ life has done so far, leave.

It's Derek who breaks the ice after a couple of minutes, when the tension becomes too much for him to bear, his eyes slowly moving from the wall to Stiles. "Are you two staying here?"

Stiles shrugs, "For now yes. I need to find a new place and a job to pay the rent."

"You can stay in the loft," Derek offers. "I'll start renovations for my family house next week so you two can have the loft."

Stiles is surprised, but not entirely in a good way, he hoped Derek would ask them to move in with him, even if he had no reason to do so, it's not like they were a couple. Stiles nods slowly, eyes narrowing in the slightest, still not used to this new Derek. Kind, caring, smiling Derek. "Well, thank you."

Another couple of minutes of silence pass before Derek whispers what they both know, "We need to talk about this at some point, you know?"

"Then talk," Stiles says, sounding a bit harsh to Derek. It's understandable, he's afraid he'll be hurt once again, but that won't happen. Not this time.

"I want more than just sex with you," Derek admits, heart steady even though Stiles can't hear it.

That's not what Stiles was expecting. "You... You want a...?" Stiles asks incredulously because that can't be true, that's just a sick joke, Derek Hale did not just admit that he wants a relationship with him.

"A relationship, yes. It's okay if you don't want that," Derek says, suddenly sad as he realizes that maybe Stiles doesn't want this, doesn't want to be with him. Maybe Derek pushed himself a step too far, too fast for Stiles. Admitting he wants a relationship so soon after they’ve reconnected maybe wasn’t the smartest move. But Derek knows he loves Stiles, he knows, he has always known and there’s no point to deny it anymore. Stiles is an adult, a father, for God’s sake, Derek let him slip away from his fingers once and almost lost him to another pack, to another woman. He won’t let this happen again. This might be rushed, this is rushed, he’s aware of that, and if his past had taught him anything is to not jump in relationship. But he trust Stiles, he has known him long enough to trust him and love him. He just laid all his cards on the table, confessing his feelings. Now it’s Stiles’ move.

Stiles’ reaction would be almost comical if Derek wasn’t so freaked out. His eyes widen almost impossibly wide at first, then narrow in a confused frown, then again Stiles’ eyes move quickly, searching Derek’s eyes and trying to tell if Derek is being serious. But this man, the man sitting next to him, is not joking. He’s telling the truth, he just confessed Stiles his feelings, feelings he had been kept trapped away for a long time. "I... Of course I want that!" Stiles rushes his words, afraid Derek might disappear if he doesn't say them soon enough. "But... I have a son." The implication lingers in the air unsaid, this is a lot more than what Derek thought he would ever have with Stiles, sure Stiles’ having a son already makes things harder, but Derek is not scared by that. "I'll ask Dylan if he's okay with us dating," Stiles takes a moment to smile because yes, he and Derek are dating now, and it's rushed and maybe it shouldn't be like this but they've both waited long enough.

"If he's not okay with this, I'll take a step back and let you two live your life. Your son comes first."

Stiles nods slowly, “Thank you.” A deep breath, then. “Can you stay some more?”

Derek turns his head to Stiles, eyes softening as he nods, “I didn’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Do you want to… watch a movie or something?” Stiles asks, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry I’m not good with this dating stuff.”

Derek chuckles and leans closer to Stiles, one arm wrapping around his waist. “Me neither. What movie?”

“Avengers!” Stiles exclaims, jumping up from the bed excited like a child on Christmas morning.

“Why do I even ask?” Derek snorts playfully, rolling his eyes as he follows Stiles downstairs.

Five minutes later the movie is playing and they’re cuddling on the couch, Derek holding Stiles in his arms as Stiles clings to a blanket and shuffles around on the couch, unable to find a comfortable position.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks after a while.

Stiles looks up at Derek, cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. “Sorry, I just can’t find a comfortable position.”

Without saying more, Derek lies back on the couch, pulling Stiles flat on top of him and rearranging the blanket so that Stiles is completely wrapped up. “Better?”

“Definitely,” Stiles agrees, burying his face in Derek’s neck and inhaling his scent. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Derek smiles, lips gently kissing the top of Stiles’ head as his hands hold Stiles close.

For a little more than one hour they stay like that, wrapped up in a sort of embrace as they both watch the movie, Stiles nuzzling Derek’s neck from time to time while Derek’s hand never stop stroking Stiles’ hip soothingly. When Derek’s keen werewolf senses catch a soft noise coming from upstairs, he tenses for a second before he remembers that they’re not alone at home but Stiles’ son is upstairs. “Dylan’s awake,” Derek whispers, carding his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

Stiles looks up at Derek and stretches his legs, sore from being still for so long. “Is he?”

Derek hums in agreement, “His breathing pattern changed and his heartbeat quickened.”

“Oh, that’s definitely better than having to sneak in his room to see if he’s awake.” Stiles rolls off of Derek and sits up, stretching his arm to take his phone from the coffee table to check the time. “It’s five,” Stiles announces as he stands up, slipping his phone in his back pocket. “I’ll be right back.”

Derek sits up and smiles shyly, scratching his belly through his shirt. “Actually, I think I should go.”

Stiles’ face drops at that, sadness overtaking his features making Derek feel guilty. “Oh.”

“Well, I need to do my grocery shopping, and I don’t want to intrude too much.” Derek smiles, standing up from the couch.

“You’re not intruding,” Stiles blurts out, taking a step towards Derek. “Dad is not home tonight. Please, stay.”

Derek looks at Stiles, unsure on what is best to do. He doesn’t want to impose himself on Dylan, especially if Stiles is going to ask is son if he’s okay with having Derek around more, but at the same time he wants to stay.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Derek smiles, arms finding their way around Stiles’ waist and pulling him closer in a loose embrace. “Tonight you stay with Dylan and I go home to unpack and clean up the loft. Tomorrow night you and Dylan come over for dinner, we eat, we watch a movie, we spend some time together. How does that sound to you?”

Stiles considers the option for a moment, his hands mimicking Derek’s actions and sneaking into Derek’s back pockets. “Sounds good to me.”

Derek smiles and leans his head forward, lips brushing against Stiles’ as he whispers, “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes,” Stiles breathes against Derek’s lips, before closing the small distance between them and kissing his parted lips softly but urgently, clenching his fists in the back of Derek’s shirt afraid that Derek might disappear if he lets go.

Derek pulls back first, smiling as he pecks Stiles’ lips again and disentangles from the embrace. “Go,” he whispers, one hand stroking Stiles’ cheek gently. “You son needs you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stiles nods and turns his head to the side, nuzzling Derek’s hand before kissing his rough palm. “See you tomorrow, Derek. I’ll call you.” He says as he takes a few step back, letting Derek go. For today, he reminds himself, he’s not going forever.

With a smile, Derek gets his leather jacket from where he left it earlier on the armchair and walks out of the front door, waving one last time before he walks back home, happy like he hadn't been in a long time.

 


	6. Macaroni, minions and memories

The night of their date Stiles is, predictably, nervous. His dad is home, sitting in the living room and watches his son pacing back and forth in front of him. “Stiles,” he sighs, standing up from the couch and placing his hands on his son’s shoulders, effectively stopping him. “Breathe.”

“I’m trying,” Stiles scoffs, looking down at his watch. “I’m late.”

“You’re not. It’s five, you have to get there at seven, it takes less than fifteen minutes for you to drive there. You’re perfectly in time.” 

Stiles sighs and takes a step back from his dad, his eyes falling on Dylan who is sitting on the armchair, holding his wolf teddy and looking at his father with a worried expression. “Is daddy okay?” The child asks, turning to his grandfather as soon as Stiles goes back upstairs to change his clothes for the third time in the past hour. 

“He is just nervous about tonight,” The sheriff says, lifting Dylan in his arms and carrying the child to the kitchen.

“Why is he nervous?” Dylan asks, tilting his head as he tries to make sense of the Sheriff’s words.

John puts the toddler on the counter and grabs the orange juice from the fridge and pouring some in Dylan’s sippy cup. “He hasn’t seen his friend in a long time, Dylan.” 

“He saw him yesterday,” Dylan points out,  taking the cup from his grandpa.

“It’s complicated,” John admits, rubbing one hand over his eyes.

Dylan doesn’t asks more questions, he takes the cup and sips his orange juice as he hears his dad rush into the kitchen. Stiles has changed clothes again, he’s wearing a pair of red trousers and a plain white t-shirt. 

His dad lifts a brow as he leans against the counter, “Is this your final choice for the night?”

Stiles looks down at his black converse and jus trousers, then up at his father. “Uh, yes?”

Dylan smiles sweetly. “You look pretty, daddy,” he says, putting the empty cup back on the surface of the counter.

“Thank you, Dylan!” Stiles beams, scooping his son up and hugging him tightly to his chest. “You look better, baby.”

The child giggles and blushes at the compliment and hides his face in his father’s neck.

“Come on, little man. Are you ready?”

Dylan nods, looking around for his teddy. “Do you think I can take him, too?”

Stiles nods, walking back to the living room to take Dylan’s toy. “Of course you can! And Derek said you can pick a movie we can watch together after dinner.”

“Despicable me!” Dylan giggles, clapping his hands together. Stiles nods in agreement and puts his son down on the floor, handing him his toy. “I’ll go get the car keys and my wallet, and you take the dvd, okay baby?”

The child nods and rushes to pick up the dvd he wants, hugging it to his chest tightly. When Stiles comes back a minute later he crouches to his son’s level and helps Dylan into his jacket, wraps his tiny red scarf around his neck and takes the dvd as he stands back up, fishing the car keys from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Ready?” He asks, holding out a hand for his son to take.

The child nods and grabs his father’s hand, curling his tiny fingers around Stiles’ hand as best as he can.

“Stiles,” John says one moment before Stiles can walk out of the door. Stiles turns around, surprised to see that his father is there.

“Yeah, dad?”

“Be careful.”

Stiles’ brows knit together in a confused frown. “Dad, he changed.”

John shakes his head, “I know. Don’t make poor choices, Stiles. If this goes wrong, you’re not the only one getting hurt.” He says, his eyes travelling pointedly from Stiles to his son.

“Dad, it’s just dinner.”

“Still.”

Stiles nods, and pats his dad’s shoulder. “You know I’ll be careful. Thank you. See you later, dad.”

Dylan waves at his grandpa as Stiles starts walking to the car. “Dad?” the child asks as Stiles opens the door of the jeep and puts his son in his car seat.

“Yes?”

“Why are you nervous?”

Stiles looks up from where he’s bucking up his son, “Nervous? Why do you think I’m nervous?”

“Grandpa said so,” Dylan shrugs, petting his wolf.

“I’m not nervous, Dylan, I’m just happy to spend time with my friend,” Stiles lies, kissing the top of his son’s head.

“Okay, daddy,” Dylan says with his baby voice that has Stiles melting. Because no matter how long it has been since Tara gave birth to his bundle of joy, he still can’t believe that he of all people is a father.

Stiles climbs in the jeep, puts the dvd in the glove box to not forget it and then starts the car. “Derek is cooking for us, baby.” He announces as he pulls out of the driveway.

“Yay!” Dylan exclaims excited. “What’s he cooking?”

“Ah, I don’t know that, sorry.” Stiles smiles at his son through the rearview mirror. “I didn’t even knew he could cook.”

Dylan tugs the tail of his teddy and fluffs it not really paying attention to the road or his father. “Is he your friend like uncle Scotty is?”

Stiles considers that for a moment, then nods. “More or less. I met Derek when I was sixteen. We weren’t really friends at first.” Stiles admits, chuckling as he thinks of how much things changed over the past years. He wasn’t going to give his son all details of how the friendship between him and Derek developed, but he could at least try and get Dylan to know Derek better.

“But you’re friends now?” Dylan asks, looking up from his toy.

“We are. People change. We became good friends after a while and it was always Derek, Scott and me,” Stiles smiles at the memory of his days as a teen, after the Hales waltzed into his life, Peter first by biting Scott and Derek right after with his leather jacket and perfect body that became not only part of Stiles’ life but also of his most intimate dreams.

“When was the last time you saw him, daddy?” Dylan asks curiously. He knows it has to be at least two years since he doesn’t remember ever seeing the man before yesterday.

“Three years pretty much.”

“Why so long?”

“We, uh, we both left Beacon Hills,” Stiles shrugs dismissively as he takes a turn, eyes on the road in front of him.

Dylan nods, somehow understanding the meaning behind his father’s words. He frowns as he realizes something, and he looks up, arms tightening around his wolf as he whispers, “Is he staying?”

Stiles is confused by that particular question and glances in the rearview mirror, “He is, yes.”

“And we’re not going back.”

“No, we’re not. I’m never taking you back there, Dylan,” Stiles says, fingers clenching around the steering wheel as his gaze darkens, tiny little sparks of electricity dancing around his fingers.

Dylan nods, and with that their conversation is over. Stiles still has no idea why his son asked if Derek was staying or not, but as he pulls the car in front of Derek’s loft, that doesn’t matter anymore. As he shuts off the engine and leans forward to take the dvd from the glove box he has a flashback of him and Scott pulling up in front of Derek's loft, eyes heavy with tears as they both rush up the stairs in a desperate attempt to get to Derek before Jennifer to tell him what happened, to tell him that Jennifer had kidnapped his dad. Stiles shakes himself out of his thoughts and takes the dvd, quickly getting out of the car. “Ready?” He asks to his son as he unbuckles his seat belt.

Dylan nods and lifts his arms up, a silent demand to be picked up and carried in his father’s arms.

Stiles smiles and does as his son wants, picking him up on his hip and shutting the door of the jeep once they’re done. The bottle of wine is next, it’s in the trunk and Stiles somehow manages to take that one too after handing the dvd to his son. With his arms full of a baby boy and his toy, Stiles starts walking up the stairs, his heart pounding with anticipation.

When they get there, the heavy door is opened and Derek is in the doorway, waiting for them with a smile. In the years Stiles has known him, he had never seen Derek like this. He’s wearing a pair of rattled jeans, a light grey tee and he’s barefoot. He looks so relaxed and domestic that part of Stiles wants to cry. And maybe jump him right there, if he wasn’t holding his son and a bottle of fine red wine.

“Hey there,” Derek greets, smiling at the Stilinski duo.

Dylan beams as soon as he sees him and waves, “Hi Derek.”

Derek, seeing that Stiles is having a hard time keeping his son in his arms along with the wine, he takes a step forward and holds his arms open, “Let me help, Stiles.”

Taking the hint, Dylan immediately leans towards Derek and the werewolf picks him up easily, holding him to his hip as Stiles smiles relieved and holds up his bottle of wine. “This is for you.”

Derek smiles as he takes the wine, Dylan still in his arms and Derek holds him up with ease, as if the child weighed nothing more than a feather. “Stiles, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Stiles admits, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Thank you, we’ll have this at dinner.” Derek takes a step back, the child still securely held in his arms, as he lets Stiles in. “Come in, please. Don’t stay there.”

Stiles blushes a little and ducks his head, quickly walking inside the loft and past Derek, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The loft is completely different from the one Stiles remembers. It’s still the same place, but it’s different. There’s not much furniture in there, the loft has a minimalist appeal to, but the plain colors and the linear and neat design of the furniture fits Derek. There’s a leather couch in the living room, in front of it there’s a flat screen tv that looks rather expensive, a nice contrast with the simplicity of the loft. The old wooden table is still there, but Derek added a few chairs to it, it seems cozy now all laid with dishes, silverware and glasses but Stiles has a feeling Derek never uses it. He knows the werewolf prefers eating in the kitchen or on the couch, Stiles swallows as he remembers just how much it hurts sitting at an empty table.  

In all fairness, Derek probably senses the sadness that’s slowly ripping through Stiles so he’s quick to distract Stiles from the misery that he’s about to slip in.  “It’s the first time you didn’t barge in.”

Stiles’ head snaps to where Derek is, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You have a point. But again, this is the first time I’m invited.”

“Touché,” Derek smiles, his eyes quickly darting to the child in his arms as he feels the child squirming. “Do you want me to put you down?” Derek asks, his voice is soft, a tender whisper, much more like a gentle caress rather than the harsh slaps his tone used to deliver. Stiles is in awe, he has never witnessed this side of Derek. Snark, headstrong, sour Derek is the one Stiles got to know and yes, the one he fell in love with. He always knew there had to be a soft side hidden somewhere underneath the layers of scruff and leather, he caught glimpses of that softer side in the past years, how Derek cared for others, how he was willing to sacrifice everything for the people he cared about. He knew Derek wasn’t a complete asshole, just a broken young man who had to rise from the ashes, quite literally.

“Yes, please.” Dylan says and Derek holds him by his hips and places his tiny frame on the couch, where he’s safely nestled between a few pillows and the wolf toy he’s clutching to his chest.

“I made chicken Alfredo and garlic bread for us, mac and cheese for Dylan.”

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble, Derek.” Stiles says, and he means it. He’s also surprised Derek can cook.

“I wanted to,” Derek’s honest and Stiles can tell despite he doesn’t have supernatural abilities. Well, not of that kind anyway. “But I’m a terrible cook, so.” He shrugs dismissively, cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as he averts his gaze, and Stiles is suddenly overwhelmed because Derek looked so insecure, as if he’s worried Stiles might judge, might be disappointed and he realizes that this, all this, the fancy meal, the table and even Derek’s neat clothes, black jeans and a grey henley, are his way to impress Stiles.

“I can help you with that, you know?” Stiles smiles reassuringly. “Show the way.”

Derek lets out a relieved breath and nods, striding for the kitchen. “This way.”

Stiles nods and glances one last time at his son who is entertaining himself with his wolf toy, before he follows Derek in the kitchen. There’s a pan on the stove, the chicken Alfredo sauce, Stiles notices. He quickly takes the wooden spoon from the rack nearby and stirs the sauce, it’s a bit too clotted but Stiles knows how to fix it. He dances with ease in the kitchen, as if it was it’s own, taking ingredients from the fridge and the cabinets as he juggles between pans and pots.

What Derek notices almost immediately is that Stiles in the kitchen is not only happier than usual, but he’s also unbelievably not clumsy. It’s as if Stiles was made to do this, to cook.

“Almost done,” Stiles announces, smiling back at Derek. “Everything was perfect, the sauce tastes delicious, but next time cook it on lower heat.”

Derek nods, treasuring every word Stiles said. “Thank you.”

“Oh, no. Thank you for doing all this. You know, a pizza would have been fine.” Stiles turns off the stove and dishes the pasta, leaving the two plates on the counter as he turns to Derek. “You don’t have to impress me, you know?”

“I know. I just wanted to cook something nice. We can have pizza another time.” He tries to sound casual, he really tries. But the truth is that he really wants another time to happen, another date, and after that a third one and then another and another after that.

Stiles smiles softly, breathing out a soft, quiet laugh, “Next time pizza. Pepperoni?"

“As always.”

“I remembered.”

“You did,” Derek nods and Stiles smiles. They’re quiet for a moment, the pasta steaming in the plates Stiles placed next to the stove, then Stiles lunges forward and places his hands flat on Derek’s chest, his soft lips meeting Derek’s chapped ones. Derek is quick to respond, one arm wraps around Stiles’ waist pulling him flush against his chest as the other curls around Stiles’ neck, supporting his head as Derek brushes his tongue against Stiles’ soft, swollen lips and deepens the kiss, tongue dancing against Stiles.

They pull back for air after long seconds, Stiles’ eyes are still closed as he pants lightly, “We should do that more often.” He chuckles, an impulsive attempt to fill the awkward silence that was bound to happen. Derek’s hand on his cheek is unexpected and somehow reassuring, a rough thumb strokes just under Stiles’ cheekbone.

“We will.”

Stiles finally opens his eyes, spending a moment to take in the sight in front of him, Derek Hale dressed in casual clothes, smiling stupidly at him with kiss swollen lips. Only the sound of something falling from the floor draws them back to reality, Stiles remembers that Dylan is in the other room and he jumps, bolting in the other room to see what happened. It’s just a book that was on the couch, with his shuffling around Dylan accidentally kicked it down on the floor. Relieved, Stiles takes his son in his arms and carries him to the table, right when Derek is carrying the plates with the food.

“Food!” Dylan beams happily.

“And I forgot your high chair,” Stiles groans, facepalming himself.

Derek stops halfway, the dishes in his hands as he turns to Stiles. “Erm, I don’t have one."

“No, I know!” Stiles says, rolling his eyes at himself. “I’m just not used to go out with him for lunch and it didn’t occur me.”

“We can eat on the couch? It’s safer for him, you can put him in the middle,” Derek suggests, walking with the dishes from the table to the coffee table in front of the couch.

Stiles takes a moment to consider it, then nods following Derek. “That’s a good idea. You’re a life saver!”

Derek laughs and walks back to the table, taking the water and the glasses as well, “I remember Laura doing that with Cora when she was babysitting her.”

The room is quiet for a second as Stiles carefully places Dylan on the couch and sits back next to him again. “It must be cool having siblings,” Stiles says as he takes the bowl with mac and cheese and gives it to Dylan with a spoon.

“You don’t have time to get bored,” Derek admits, chuckling at distant memories as he leans back on the couch, legs folded under him as he hands the first plate to Stiles and keeps the second one for himself. “But you never have a moment for yourself. So there’s pros and cons.”

“Like there is for every thing,” Stiles points out, glancing at Dylan before he takes a forkful of pasta and takes it to his lips. A moan of pleasure escapes his lips as he saviors the delicious food. “Derek this is amazing.”

Derek blushes, in part for the compliment and in part because of the sinful sound Stiles made. “I’m glad.” He tastes the food as well, smiling proudly as he finds out that the food is really as good as Stiles said. “You helped with the sauce, though. You should take almost all of the credit.”

“Let’s just agree that we make a great team,” Stiles suggest, sparing a quick glance at Derek before going back to his food.

“That we do, Stiles.”

The rest of the dinner is spent in silence, sometimes Stiles has to put down his plate to help Dylan with his macaroni but aside from that the night goes on smoothly. When the pasta is finished, Derek got back to the kitchen to take the garlic bread and some cheese to go with it and when he’s sitting back on the couch he helps Dylan, making him a small sandwich with regular bread and some soft cheese so that Stiles can enjoy the second part of his meal without interruptions. Derek is smooth with Dylan, he looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing, he feeds the child with ease and smiles a lot at the kid, humoring him with smiles and small sentences.

“You’re good with kids,” Stiles blurts out as he dabs at his lips with a paper napkin.

“Comes with growing up in a big family, Stiles.” He shrugs as he helps Dylan drink from a glass, holding it up from him so his tiny hands don’t do all the effort.

“I had no clue,” Stiles whispers, his voice suddenly low, sad almost. “I didn’t know how to handle a child, or worse, a pregnant woman. I had to wing it.”

Derek looks up and takes the glass from Dylan, holding it in his hand as he gifts Stiles with a small, private smile. “You did great.”

“I tried,” Stiles shrugs, eyes daring to the floor as he starts fumbling with his fingers. That’s a behavior Derek had seen many times, it means that Stiles doesn’t want to talk about something so Derek changes subject rather easily.

“We could watch that movie now.”

Dylan’s eyes snap up and he whispers, “Movie?”

“Yeah, the one you brought,” Stiles says, standing up from the couch to take the dvd and put it in the dvd player.

“Despicable me!” Dylan exclaims excitedly, turning on his spot to look at Derek. “You watched that?”

Derek shakes his head but smiles at the kid’s enthusiasm, “No never. Is it good?”

Dylan nods vigorously and the way he does it, eyes widen and lips pursed in an attempt to look serious, reminds Derek of Stiles, the many times Stiles had done just that, the same expression and the same look in his eyes.

“Okay boys, get comfortable,” Stiles says, sitting back on the couch and pulling his son in his lap, handing the wolf toy back to him. Derek moves closer to Stiles, not entirely pressed against him, but close enough that Stiles can feel the warmth radiating from the werewolf’s body. As soon as Stiles hits play Dylan starts blabbering about the movie, how cool it is and how he watched it three times while Stiles was driving back home from New York because it was a long ride and he missed mom.

Derek hears Stiles’ heartbeat quickening at the mention of their ride back and Tara, Derek watches from the corner of his eyes Stiles swallowing a lump in his throat as his arms tighten slightly around his son, he tilts his head to press a small kiss on top of his son’s head as his eyes cloud with tears he’s fighting back. He reeks of sadness and misery and that, that’s something Derek wants to change.

If Stiles could smell Derek’s emotion, he would recognize the pungent sting of rage, the softer scent of compassion and love, and the bitter smell of sadness. Rage because a worthless woman used, hurt and abandoned Stiles to his fate with a toddler he wasn’t ready to take care of and sadness because Derek recognized himself in the little boy bored to death during a road trip. He remembers it all to well, he wasn’t as young as Dylan, he was a teenage boy, he was in his sister’s Camaro, travelling from Beacon Hills to a new life in New York, Just like Dylan, Derek missed his mom. It’s weird how fate is, how Derek and Stiles both ran away from Beacon Hills to end up in New York, maybe they even stayed in the same motels in the week or so that it takes for one person to cover the three thousands mile that divide Beacon Hills from New York. It’s almost ironic how at the end they both came back to California, as if their town is really a beacon that attracts them back to it.

“You okay?” Stiles whispers as he notices that Derek is lost in thoughts.

Derek looks at Stiles and nods, faking a smile. “Yeah, just lost in thoughts, sorry.”

“You’re not enjoying the movie?” Dylan asks, feeling betrayed.

The smile he gets from Derek is heartwarming. “I’m loving it, Dyl.”

The child beams and it’s enough for him, his attention now fully back at the movie. Stiles though, is less easy to persuade. “Are you sure?”

Derek nods, smiling softly. “Yeah, yeah I’m sure. I’m just a bit tired I guess. Still knocked out from my road trip.”

“We can go…” Stiles offers, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Stay,” Derek whispers as he leans his head back against the couch. “Please, stay.”


	7. Blast from the past

A week goes by and, to Derek and Stiles’ surprise, it’s a quiet week. They go on with their lives, Stiles works his part time job and Derek calls the contractor and starts the renovations in the Hale house. However, there’s an issue Stiles knows he will have to deal with at some point, and he’s slacking. He needs to talk to his son about letting Derek into this lives, Dylan always looked excited to spend time with Derek but, as Stiles knew far too well there’s an abyss between liking somebody and wanting this somebody to become part of your life. Truth is, Stiles is not ready for a negative answer, if Dylan doesn’t want Derek in their life, Stiles will have to break up with Derek and he’s not sure he can take that blow.

Derek sits there as he works on the plans for his house, his mind half on the task at hand, half wandering back to the what ifs. Like, what if Dylan said no… Could he really just move on and be okay, bumping into them in the supermarket? He lets out a sigh as his heart aches at just the idea of losing his mate as the contractor keeps rambling on about tile colors and floor plans, which at this point Derek didn't even care about all he wanted to know what Dylan's answer.

“Did you talk to him?” It’s the first thing Derek asks as he barges inside Stiles’ house. It's their first date night without Dylan, the Sheriff took him out for the night, giving Stiles and Derek some privacy.

“Hi, Derek. Please come in,” Stiles rolls his eyes as he takes a step back from his front door.

“So?” Derek urges, turning back to Stiles.

“I didn’t talk to him yet, Derek.”

Derek scoffs and crosses his arms against his chest. He doesn’t need to say anything, Stiles already feels bad enough. He knows he should have talked to his son but he was too worried about the answer he was going to get to face the issue.

“We don’t need to rush this, Derek! We can give him more time to get used to you,” Stiles tries to grasp every excuse he might find to postpone this further.

“He doesn’t have to get used to me, Stiles! What if he doesn’t want anyone around his dad, hm?”

Stiles rolls his eyes trying to look annoyed but the truth is that he’s scared, scared Derek might be right. “But why? Why can’t we wait? A little longer, Derek. Just a bit longer.”

“Because it’s gonna hurt more,” Derek finally voices what they both know and denied for so long.

“You’re selfish,” Stiles accuses, his voice a bit too loud.

“Oh, I’m selfish? You keep this from your son and I’m the selfish one?” Derek retorts, his breath becoming heavy as he tries to remain calm.

Stiles is about to reply to that when smell of something burning wafts into the room. “Crap!” Stiles yells as he runs back to the kitchen. “The chicken is burnt now, fucking great.”

Derek sighs as he shoves his hands in the oven, taking out the chicken before Stiles manages to hurt himself. “I’ll go get some pizza,” he says in a tone that doesn’t let room for arguments. Before Stiles can reply, the front door closes with a loud bang.

“Sourwolf.” Stiles spats out angrily as he tosses the chicken to the side. He leans back against the counter, taking a deep breath and wondering if he screwed up.

Before he can clean up properly the mess, he hears the kitchen’s back door opening. When he turns around, wondering how Derek could have gotten back so quickly, the air gets knocked out of his lungs as he sees the figure standing in the threshold, a ghost of his past in flesh and bones standing a few feet away from him.

His eyes widen at the unexpected sight and he can’t help his heart beating so fast in his chest that he’s afraid it might just break free from his rib cage. A scared and surprised gasp leaves his lips, “Tara.”

The woman standing in the door frame takes a step forward a devious smirk covering her face, heels clicking against the kitchen’s floor. “You seem surprised, aren’t you happy to see me after all this time?” She asks, her voice low and sensual just like Stiles remembered it. Hypnotic, almost.

“Tara, what the hell do you want?” He tries to sound strong, but he’s scared. Scared Tara is here to take their son. No, Stiles shakes that thought away, it’s not their son, not anymore. It’s his son. She gave up on Dylan the day she walked away.

“You know who I want, Stiles. You know why I’m here. Why we all are.” She takes another step forward but this time Stiles doesn’t move back, he stays there, daring her to come closer.

He feels a rush of adrenaline down his spine as little sparks dance on his fingers. “I’m afraid you came all this way for nothing, Tara.”

She places a clawed hand over her chest, eyes flashing her unique orange as she grins mischievously. “You’re a monster, denying a two years old child to see his beloved mother.” Right after she says that she lunges forward with a snarl, hand clutching Stiles’ throat and lifting him up from the floor, her sharp claws digging slightly into the soft flesh.

“You reek of another wolf,” her eyes are glowing as she inhales Stiles’ scent. Stiles would make a joke about her being jealous but the air is cut short by her strong grip. “I’m going to take him, Stiles. No matter if I have to kill you or your new bitch, I will get my son back.” She threatens, her grip tightening even more, making Stiles’ gasp as his lungs start to burn. Instinctively, Stiles’ hands curl around her ferocious grip and as he tries to unclench her deathly grip, he feels a rush of electricity running down his veins. It’s a matter of a second, Stiles tightens the grip he has on her wrist and uses his power to shock her, the electricity going from his fingers to her arm. She yells in pain as she lets go of him, her flesh burning from the shock.

“Don’t come near me or Dylan again, Tara. You’ll regret it.” He’s more confident now, he’s not scared of her, not when he knows he can defend himself. The cuts on his neck are bleeding, but he tries not to think of it as he glares at her.

She growls as she takes a few step back, still holding her arm with her not injured hand. “You will regret this. I will fucking kill you!” She shouts as she runs away, slamming the door so hard that it felt as if the whole house trembled under the force of her rage.

It takes a few minutes for Stiles to recover from the fear and the shock of seeing Tara in his home, attacking him. After few long, deep breaths, Stiles locks the back door and goes to the bathroom, taking the first aid kit as he inspects his wounds in the mirror with trembling hands. The cuts aren’t deep but they sting, he sighs as he takes a cotton ball and soaks it with antiseptic. “How the hell are you going to explain this to Derek,” he huffs as he starts dabbing at the first cut.

The cotton ball makes contact with the open wound the exact second the front door bursts open and Derek rushes to the bathroom. “Stiles,” he calls as soon as he bursts inside the house, concern clear in his voice. “Stiles? Are you okay?”

Stiles winces as the alcohol burns in his wound. “I’m in the bathroom, babe,” he calls, knowing there is no reason to hide what happened.

Derek almost kicks off the door, he’s a mess when he walks in, he looks worried, scared, guilty even. He inhales sharply as he sees the blood running down Stiles’ neck. He doesn’t need to smell the air to know somebody attacked Stiles, another wolf.

“I’m fine,” Stiles lies, voice wobbly as he looks at Derek through the mirror, he doesn’t dare turning around because if he does he’s afraid he might break down and cry.

Derek covers the small distance that’s between him and Stiles and places his hand on the base of Stiles’ neck, tilting his head to the side as he inspects the cuts, eyes flashing red for just a second as he realizes that Stiles, his Stiles, had been attacked in his own home. “Who did this?”

Stiles closes his eyes as he whispers, “Tara, it was Tara.” And then, right after those word leave his lips, the weight of what happened, of Tara barging into his home, the only place where he should feel safe, threatening to kill him and to take his son, the fact that he defended himself from her, causing maybe even more damage, it all hits him like a ton of bricks. He feels drained and his legs give up, making him fall forward.

Thanks to his wolf reflexes, Derek quickly catches him, steadying him as best as he can before pulling him in his arms. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t ask, not yet, because whatever she wanted Stiles is still there, alive, in his arms and all he can do now is hold him and let him break down in the safety of his arms.

It takes several minutes for Stiles to calm down, tears mixing with blood on Derek’s shirt. He pulls back unwillingly and runs the sleeve of his hoodie over his swollen eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Derek smiles softly as he takes the cotton ball and motions for Stiles to sit on the counter. With shaky legs and arms, Stiles manages to prop himself on the piece of furniture and Derek finally can tend to his wounds.

“She wants Dylan,” Stiles says, his voice his different and Derek has to look up to make sure the man who’s talking is still his Stiles. His tone is cold, almost detached. Then, Derek realizes, he’s just determined to put an end to this as soon as possible. Whatever this is. “She threatened to kill me if I don’t give him up.”

“We won’t let her come near him, Stiles.” He says as he tosses the cotton ball away and looks up at Stiles, cupping his cheeks and stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones.

Another rush of adrenaline runs down his spine, eyes focused on Derek’s icy hues as a thousand of tiny sparks dance around his fingers. “I know.”


	8. A promise well kept

Despite her threats, Tara didn’t show up. Stiles, knowing her far too well, expected her to crawl into the house at night from one of the many windows, slash Stiles’ throat in his sleep with only her claws and take his son away. Well, she would have been the type to burst in from the front door with her betas and unleash mayhem. True, she wasn’t the alpha, but somehow she was a natural leader, Stiles remembers how the pack members and the alpha always listened to her. Always. A shiver runs down his spine as he rolls over in bed, eyes glued to the window, fearing her like a nightmare.

His bedroom door creaks open, but Stiles' eyes don’t move. Dylan shifts in his bed but doesn’t wake, tightening his grip on his wolf. A dark shadow slips into the room and the bed dips, but Stiles' eyes never leave the window, because he's afraid that if he looks away from just one second, that if he blinks, when his eyes would go back to the window she will be there. Stiles doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to.

A few beats of silence pass before Derek speaks, voice barely a whisper, afraid he might wake Dylan. “I checked all around the house, it’s all clear.”

Stiles nods, the gun tight in his hand. “She’s smart.”

“I know. But she’s not here, she can’t hide her scent. If she’ll attack you, it’s not tonight,” Derek realizes that he did a terrible job at being reassuring, but in a terrible situation like this there isn’t much he can say to be comforting.

Stiles gets up from the bed, leaves the gun on the bedside table as he crosses the room and goes to check on Dylan. Derek’s eyes fall on the gun for the first time that night. “I didn’t know you could shoot.”

“I can’t.”

“Then why do you have it?”

Stiles pulls the blanket over Dylan’s shoulders and fixes his teddy before it falls off from the bed, “It makes me feel safe.” 

And I don’t? Derek thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud, knowing it’s stupid and that it would just start an unnecessary fight. “It can be dangerous,” he says instead, settling once again for the truth.

Stiles sighs as he moves to the window, glancing out again. It’s dark out, the only light comes from the streetlamps, there are no cars in the road, no lights in the houses nearby, only a few stars in the sky. What catches Stiles’ eyes is the moon, half full but huge and bright in the night sky. “What if she’s waiting for that?”

Derek looks away from the gun and back at his boyfriend. “For what?”

“The moon. What if she’s waiting for the full moon?” Stiles asks as his eyes are glued to the window, the moon almost mocking him with his milky white, as it stands there innocent and for some reasons Stiles wants to blame it, he wants the blame the moon for all this. Why, though, he isn’t sure.

“She would be stronger, that’s for sure,” At that, Stiles’ heart skips a beat and Derek quickly tries to sound reassuring. “I will be too, if that counts.”

“But so would be her pack. No offense Derek, but you never excelled in a fight, and now there’s five of them.”

Derek snorts, standing up from the bed. “She won’t get all of them involved, Stiles. From what you told me, this is something between you and her, she doesn’t see me or you as a threat, she won’t get them involved.”

“How can you be so sure?” Stiles sighs, looking back at Derek.

In that moment Derek knows Stiles is exhausted, the stress and fear taking a toll on him. Derek stands behind Stiles, his arms sneaking around Stiles’ waist and he rests his cheek on his shoulder, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss on his neck. “Because that’s what I would do.”

Surprisingly enough, that seems to be enough for Stiles. Heavy silence fills the room as Stiles ponders the next move, many different scenarios play in his head. One thing he knows for sure, Tara is fierce, and she always gets what she wants.

“Go to sleep, you’ve been awake too long,” it’s whispered in his ear and as soon as his brain register the words, he realizes that he is exhausted. He didn’t sleep well in the past days, if possible, he didn’t sleep at all. Derek never left his side but as soon as he closed his eyes, he saw Tara taking Dylan from him. That sight alone was enough to keep him awake for weeks if needed.

Derek sighs as he feels the restless state Stiles is in. “Sleep, I’ll stay awake,” Derek offers as he feels Stiles leaning back in his embrace.

“I can’t…” Stiles whispers, but it sounds more like a whine.

“You can, actually, you have to. Stiles, she’s winning here. She’s destroying you piece by piece, if you’re exhausted it will be easier for her to break you.”

Despite his instinct to protect, to stay awake and ready to fight, Stiles knows Derek is right. He sighs tiredly as he takes a step forward, untangling himself from Derek’s embrace and moving to the bed, lying down on it as his eyes go back once again at the window.

Derek just draws the curtains, blocking the view and the moon out of the room, absolute darkness filling the room. He then moves to the bed, pulling the blankets over Stiles and kissing the top of his head. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” Derek whispers as he pulls back. Stiles nods in acknowledgment, his eyes already falling closed as he finally gives up and submits to a deep slumber.

Before he leaves the room, Derek takes the gun.

* * *

It’s around eleven when Stiles wakes up, the sun high in the sky peeking through the drawn curtains. He stirs, then looks around himself, checking that everything is okay, that everything is as he left it the night before. Nothing is out of place, except for one thing. He panics when he realizes that his son’s bed is empty, Dylan gone, taken from him. Fear and terror vanish before he can get out of bed, a muffled giggle coming from downstairs warms up his heart and he finally takes a deep breath, relaxing every muscle in his own body. Derek. He had forgotten Derek was there, in his father’s house, watching over him and Dylan. Stiles pushes the blankets back and shift out of bed, his bare feet meeting the cold floor. He hisses and curses under his breath as he blindly reaches for socks to wear.

From downstairs, Derek can hear what’s going on in Stiles bedroom and he chuckles, smiling at the child sitting at the coffee table, coloring a picture. “Your daddy is awake,” he announces.

Dylan beams and gives Derek a red crayon so he can color Captain America’s shield. “Hi daddy!” Dylan yells from downstairs.

“Inside voice,” Stiles calls back with a yell that’s louder than Dylan’s. “And good morning to you two.” He’s smiling as he climbs down the stairs, feet wrapped up in warm socks.

Dylan drops his crayons and scuttles to the bottom of the stairs, wrapping his arms around his father’s legs. Stiles lifts him up and kisses his cheek, “Hey buddy.”

“Dad got so much sleep,” Dylan giggles, resting his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Your dad needed sleep, he hasn’t been sleeping well lately,” Derek explains as he gets up from where he was sitting on the floor to greet Stiles properly.

“Why not?” Dylan asks pouting, eyes darting from Derek to Stiles.

Stiles just shrugs, faking a big smile. “It happens sometimes, Dylan. It’s okay, nothing to worry about.”

“Derek was helping me with my book!” Dylan announces and points to the coffee table where his colouring book is. A few crayons are scattered on the tabletop but nothing is on the floor, the unused colours are all in the box where they belong and that’s progress.

“Oh really? Why don’t you go finish it and then you show me your masterpiece?” Stiles asks as he puts Dylan down, letting him run to the coffee table to pick up his book. While Dylan is distracted Stiles turns to Derek and only then notices how tired Derek looks. “Did you sleep?”

Derek shrugs, eyes moving from Stiles to Dylan, “I’m not tired.”

Stiles cups Derek’s cheek with his hand and makes him turn his face towards him again so they’re looking at each other. “Derek,” Stiles says softly, almost a whine at how desperate it is. “Take a nap, sleep. I’m safe, you said it yourself, she won’t attack yet.” He can tell Derek is about to argue, so he uses his own words against him. “If you’re exhausted it will be easier for her to break you.”

There’s a hint of a smirk on Stiles lips, Derek can tell, Stiles knows what he’s doing, Stiles knows that Derek can’t argue that. He won this time, and Derek has a feeling Stiles always wins, he always gets what he wants, especially from Derek because there’s no way Derek will ever be able to say no to him. “Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ll nap.”

Stiles beams and moves his other hand to the side of Derek’s face, framing his face with his hands, eyes searching Derek’s as he whispers. “Get some sleep, rest. I love you.” Stiles freezes for a second as he realizes what he said, that he uttered those three words so easily and carelessly, and yet he knows that he means them. He means it, he loves Derek, he loves him more than he ever loved, more than he loved Tara, if he ever did love her at all. Because Derek has been by his side ever since Tara showed up, he didn’t let him out of his sight, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t go home to be with him and make sure he’s okay. Because Derek, who came back to Beacon Hills to find some quiet, some peace, didn’t hesitate in get involved in Stiles’ battles, to get involved once again in what he’s been avoiding for so long, all for Stiles’ safety, ready to fight a whole pack of wolves to protect him. So yes, Stiles loves him and if he can trust Derek’s actions, he’d say Derek loves him too.

It’s not what Derek had been expecting, Stiles to love him back. And yet he just said it, his heart steady as he told the truth, as he said how he really feels. It’s a moment, just a second, Derek wraps one arm around Stiles’ waist and pulls him flush against his chest, lips brushing against Stiles’ as he whispers, “I love you, too.” Derek closes his eyes as he presses his lips against Stiles in a chaste but meaningful kiss, and Stiles kisses back, mindful of Dylan in the other room, his hands grip Derek’s shirt to pull him close but ultimately he pulls back, smiling.

“Sleep, please.” Stiles whispers, forehead pressed against Derek’s, words whispered against his lips.

Derek nods, pressing a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips before he pulls back. “I’ll be napping in your bedroom, wake me if you need me. Promise?”

Stiles nods, pulling back from Derek. “I promise.”

 


	9. Words not easy to say

Dylan is bouncing in his seat as soon as Stiles pulls up in front of the park, his eyes glued to the window, looking at the other children playing on the swings and slides, knowing that soon he will be running among them.

“Excited, huh?” Stiles asks as he kills the engine, glancing at his son in the rear view mirror.

Dylan nods, eyes moving back to his father. “Yes!”

A fond smiles creeps upon Stiles’ lips as he gets out of the car and jogs to the other side, to free Dylan from his car seat. “Before we go play, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, daddy.” The child smiles, clinging to his father’s neck as he’s lifted from his car seat and put on the ground.

Stiles locks the car and takes his son’s tiny hand in his, walking slowly towards one of the many unoccupied benches of the park. That’s it, Stiles thinks, the much dreaded question. But after his confession of love and with Tara ready to attack he needs to ask, he needs to know. Instinctively, he casts his gaze around, making sure none of the people in the park are Tara or her pack. Like Derek had predicted, the place is safe. For a moment, Stiles wonders if she gave up, if she left town and gave up on them. But he knows Tara better than that, she won’t let this go, she won’t stop there. Not until she gets Dylan, or she kills them both.

What Stiles can’t help thinking is that if he had gotten his father involved in this, maybe he might have helped. Maybe his father would have put his most trusted deputies to protect him, but with what use? Nobody except the Sheriff himself knows about the supernatural and a few police officers outside of Stiles’ house wouldn’t be of any use against Tara, it would mean certain death for them. This is something about Stiles and Tara alone. Nobody else had to be involved in this and for once, Stiles is glad that all his friends left for college, less people to get in the way of that crazed wolf. Nobody should be involved, except Derek who willingly stood between Stiles and Tara, promising Stiles that he would keep him safe.

After a few beats of silence, Dylan looks up at his father, wondering why he’s not asking the question he needs to ask. He tugs at his father’s hand, making him look down. “What is it?”

Stiles shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. A sharp breath, and then. “Do you like Derek?”

What was a worried frown on Dylan’s face just a second before quickly morphs into a huge grin as he nods his head. “I do! He’s cool!”

His first reaction is to cheer, because his son likes his boyfriend, or whatever Derek is, he’s not sure yet on what they are to each other, and from what he can tell, Derek isn’t either. Scolding his features back into a neutral expression, he asks the second and last question, an easy one that bears much more than a boy Dylan’s age can understand. “And would you be okay if Derek spends more time with us?”

It takes a while for Dylan to come up with an answer, ever since Derek came into their lives his father started smiling more and talking less and less about his mother. Every day Dylan wondered where she went and why he wasn’t good enough for her to love, why she had left them behind like old, broken toys somebody doesn’t want to play with anymore. Dylan offers a small smile, holding back the simple question of ‘Where is my mummy?’ as his dad seems happy now with this man Dylan doesn’t know much. But since this man makes his daddy happy, and Dylan knows for a fact that Derek is cool because he knows superheroes and can build a Lego car like it’s nobody’s business, Dylan gives an affirmative answer to the question, hoping deep inside him that Derek won’t leave them too. “Yes.”

He’s not excited as he was just a moment ago, Stiles can tell that easily, and knows exactly what’s going through his son’s mind. He can’t promise that Derek won’t leave them, he just can’t, because he doesn’t know if Derek ever will. Swallowing, he decides to offer his son a second chance to think about this, knowing Dylan still believes his mom will come back. She is, but again, not in the way Dylan wants her to be. “You don’t have to say yes, you know?”

“I know,” Dylan smiles at Stiles, nodding to show that he understood. “He makes you smile,” Dylan adds with his childish voice, rocking back and forth on his feet as they stand near the bench.

“He really does,” Stiles hums happily as his eyes wander off in the distance, smiling to himself as he realizes just how happy Derek made him.

“And his Lego cars are better than yours,” Dylan giggles, letting go of his father’s hand and taking a few steps back.

Stiles’ eyes snap down to his son, a wave of confusion washing over him before he realizes that his son is joking, lightening the mood of their conversation. “Really? Really! Oh, I will remember this next time you ask me to play with you!” He jokes, feigning hurt and annoyance.

Dylan laughs, scuttling forward to hug his father’s leg. “I love you, daddy.”

Stiles’ hand moves to his son’s hair, running through the locks as he whispers. “I love you too.”

They stay like that for a moment, before Dylan pulls back and looks over at the swings. “Can we go?” His father nods and takes his hand once again, guiding him to the swings, where they spend the rest of their afternoon, between a few swings in the air and some sliding down the colorful slides. Stiles notices, for the first time, how Dylan doesn’t interact with other children, but rather stays by himself, something that he definitely took from him.

Around five, when the sun is setting and some of the parents start calling the kids, Stiles’ phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a text from Derek.

[Fri 5:09pm] I just woke up and saw your note, all good? 

Stiles sits back on the bench, letting his son play on the swing some more as he quickly texts back. 

 _[Fri 5:11pm]_ _All good, we’ll come back soon. No threats out there, all safe._  

[Fri 5:15pm] Good, I’m leaving the house now, going for a round of patrolling around your house and the woods, check if she’s gone. How’s Dylan?

_[Fri 5:16pm] He’s good, he said yes. ;)_

[Fri 5:21pm] That’s awesome, I hoped he would. I gotta go, we can talk arrangements later. I have to do this before sundown. Sorry. 

_[Fri 5:24pm] It’s okay wolfie, go do your duties. See you at dinner?_

[Fri 5:26pm] Okay. I love you.

Stiles can’t help it, no matter if it’s just a text, but his heart skips a beat, because Derek loves him. It will take a while for this to sink in, maybe it will just take forever. He had never expected Derek to love him back, and yet here he was, confessing his love for him once again. And Derek, of all people, is not one to say those words too easily.

_[Fri 5:28pm] I love you too._


End file.
